


at your door

by cROAissant



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anachronic Order, College AU, Ficlet Compilation, M/M, multiple POVs, wewritevictuuri prompt ficlets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-07-08 02:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15921368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cROAissant/pseuds/cROAissant
Summary: It starts with a college-wide prank war gone too far. It ends with Victor, Yuuri, and their poodles living happily ever after. Unfortunately, it takes a while to get there.





	1. Do you regularly show up at people’s doors at 3am or am I really special?

It was the scuffling from the halls that woke him. Having lived in the university dormitories for the past four years, strange noises at odd hours wasn’t something new to Victor. However, he remembered the warning Georgi gave him earlier that evening about a prank war happening among liberal arts majors.

_“They replaced the pool water with Gatorade, Victor! All the furniture in Almavivo commons is covered with duct tape! JJ Leroy’s face is taped everywhere! EVERYWHERE.”_

The last one hadn’t actually been a prank, but the unpredictability wasn’t helping the already tense atmosphere. No one knew how this mess began exactly, none of the liberal arts majors would say, but their antics were bleeding into the other colleges and it was only a matter of time before something serious happened. Apparently, the only reason why the Dean hadn’t stepped in and put a stop to all this was because there hadn’t been any collateral damage yet.

(Though what Dean Okukawa considered collateral damage was beyond him. The poor couches would never recover from being mummified by hardware.)

A glance at his charging phone told him that it was a few minutes short of 3am. Whatever was happening out there, it definitely wasn’t good. Victor rose carefully, making sure to stay quiet lest he wake Makkachin. His beloved poodle didn’t need to be disturbed by petty college student squabbles. Unfortunately, his little girl stirred at the lack of warmth and rose from the bed. She cocked her head at him in question.

“Quiet, Makka,” he crooned. “It sounds like trouble outside. You stay here for now.”

She woofed softly in response.

He took his emergency tennis racket out from under the bed and slowly made his way to the door. He sincerely hoped that whatever was making those scuffing sounds outside wasn’t out to get him. He cracked his door open and blur of black and blue shot right into him, pushing him back a good foot from the door. Victor regained his bearings just as a pajama-clad student pushed his door shut and used both the deadbolt and chain lock to keep it secure.

“Shh, shh Vicchan,” he cooed. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s alright now.”

Victor snorted, “I’m not sure what part of being locked in with a complete stranger would count as alright.”

The man turned, and Victor was assaulted with the glorious sight of the most beautiful man on earth carrying the cutest puppy in a sling. Chocolate brown eyes, widened comically at the sight of him.

“Do you regularly show up at people’s doors at 3am,” he asked, managing to keep the awe from bleeding into his tone. He raised a curious brow, “or am I really that special?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t— I forgot seniors were on this floor!” he stammered, frantically waving his arms about, “I just needed a place to hide. Phichit got a text that the Psychology majors were headed for us and I had to hide upstairs. I swear I’m just here to hide. Vicchan— I didn’t want Vicchan to get hurt! They have megaphones!”

Vicchan, who he concluded was the curly ball of fluff strapped to the panicked man, whined up at his owner and tucked his head into the crook of his neck. Victor heart squeezed at the sight. It seemed the prank war spread to the Aria Dormitory, leaving poor gorgeous freshmen and teeny puppies to seek refuge among the seniors.

The man paused, eyes growing impossibly large. A strangled noise escaped him, “Oh god… you’re Victor Nikiforov.”

He chuckled, amused by the abruptness.

“That would be me, yes,” he answered, channeling confidence rather than  _please fall in love with me so we can raise our sweet dogs together and fly into an eternal rainbow_. “Would you mind telling me your name then? If I’m going to let you stay, I may as well know who you are.”

The man’s cheeks glowed rich ruby red and he stuttered, “It’s… it’s Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki. I’m so sorry.”

Victor laughed. He turned to Makkachin, who had been sitting back patiently all the while. Her tail wagged a mile a minute, showing her approval of their unexpected guests. Makka was far better than himself at judging people, and if she trusted them, then Victor couldn’t see why he shouldn’t.

“Well, Yuuri. Why don’t you and Vicchan tell us a little about yourselves? If the Psychology majors are out there, it would be best for us to stay awake anyway.”


	2. The only thing that makes sense to me anymore is us.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s where the anachronic orders sets in. This one takes place about 4 years after ghe first one~

One of the more interesting perks of being a Resident Assistant was being provided with a skeleton key. Granted, Victor was Aria’s _only_ RA and their ever-reliable Residence Director was still on indefinite leave for reasons no one could explain. He was lucky that Aria basically ran itself, and his duties were limited to keeping the peace and directing lost students to the right authority figure to sort their problems out — god knows how Victor would juggle anything more along with his master’s degree.

That said, it was still a great show of trust for the administration to give him unrestricted access to every room in the building. Victor was proud to say he only occasionally abused his power.

He strolled into his boyfriend’s room — seventh from the left on the fifth floor — with a wicker basket looped on his forearm and both Vicchan and Makkachin trotting behind him. Thesis submission season was drawing closer by the second, and Victor knew that a certain manic senior was ignoring his body’s basic needs to perfect two hundred pages of hellfire and suffering.

Sure enough, he found Yuuri slumped at his desk, his head pillowed in the crook of his elbow as he glared up at a seemingly endless wall of text. He stayed oblivious to their presence, occasionally muttering to himself — either reading out excerpts of his work or cursing every academic authority figure he’d ever had the displeasure of working under. Victor could certainly sympathize; he still had nightmares about his own undergraduate thesis.

He softly requested the puppies to stay quiet as he set up their meal for the evening. They responded with two affirmative woofs before curling up together on Vicchan’s too-small dog bed. With both poodles fed and walked for the night, it was only a matter of time before they went to sleep.

Victor set the basket down on the meager kitchenette counter and emptied it of its contents — two covered bowls and a large thermos. He took their cups and chopsticks from the little drying rack near the sink and set them beside the bowls. With everything ready, Victor padded over to his precious, stressed blob.

“Yuuri,” he crooned, carding a hand through fluffy, black locks, “take a break, love. You’ve been at this for hours.”

Yuuri whined and turned his head slightly to pout up at him. As irresistible as his puffed cheeks and quivering lip were, Victor couldn’t give in.

“You need to eat, Yuuri,” he pressed.

Yuuri whined a second time, but appeared to have given in, having sat up in his chair. He glared up at him for a few more seconds before pulling Victor close. He laughed at the sensation of Yuuri nuzzling into his stomach.

“My thesis is so stupid,” Yuuri said, slightly muffled.

Victor rubbed comforting circles on his back. “No, love, that’s the hunger and sleep deprivation talking. Your thesis is fantastic.”

Yuuri squeezed tighter, “Nothing makes sense, Victor, nothing. My adviser said I had to apply more theory in my framework, but I have nothing. I don’t know anything anymore— nothing makes sense.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss on the crown of Yuuri’s head. They had this conversation several times since the academic year began, and it always led to his beautiful, brilliant boyfriend doubting his abilities. Victor learned long ago that Yuuri didn’t need words when he was like this. So he kept silent and let Yuuri hug him for as long as he needed to.

When Yuuri lifted his head from his stomach, he looked up at Victor with grateful eyes and a more playful pout.

“My degree is stupid Victor. All of college is,” he griped. “The only thing that makes sense to me anymore is us.”

Victor laughed, flustered and so very much in love. “Maybe a good meal will help. It’s not Mama Hiroko’s katsudon, but a decent bowl of ramen and your favorite tea may help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been busy with a board exam the past few months, so both my writing updating had to take a backseat. Thankfully, it’s over and I can finally get to everything I have planned (๑•̀ㅂ •́)و ✧ 
> 
> Like always, kudos and comments are appreciated and feel free to scream at me on tumblr ☆⌒(≧▽° )


	3. featuring a very frustrated Phichit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this glorious post](http://russiacore.tumblr.com/post/171010802702/the-girl-who-sits-next-2-me-in-english-keeps).

Unlocking the door while juggling grocery bags, a dripping umbrella, and a wriggly poodle in a sling used to be difficult for Yuuri. However, he’d done this enough over the past few months that it was as natural as breathing now.

(It helped immensely that freshmen lived on the second floor.)

“Phichit, we’re back!” he called, sliding backwards into the room. He replaced his sneakers for slippers and nudged the outdoor shoes onto the rack with practiced ease, Vicchan yipped at him for a job well done.

“Sorry I took so long, the rain— what is this?”

Phichit stood before him, arms crossed and eyes blazing. Each of his three hamsters stared at Yuuri with matching intensity from their perches on his head and shoulders. Above them hung a white banner with sparkling red and gold text that read  _ INTERVENTION _ .

“This Yuuri,” he said with the grave mien of a career counsellor, “is an intervention.”

He blinked, “Can you… help me put the groceries away first?”

Ten minutes later, a bright yellow scarf hung from their door— the university-wide symbol for  _ do not disturb. no it’s not sex, ya nasty _ . Phichit placed his hamsters in their respective color-coded balls to keep Vicchan entertained. Their phones were placed in the windowsill, facing away from them.

Yuuri gulped; this really was serious. Phichit stared at him, silent for a long, heavy moment before finally speaking.

“You have to bone Victor Nikiforov.”

“What?”

“Bone. Victor. Nikiforov.”

“ _ What?! _ ”

Phichit scooted forward, pining Yuuri’s legs down with his own and gripping his shoulders to hold him down more securely.

“Yuuri, this is going too far,” he said, “The sexual tension between you is killing me—  _ you’re killing the whole university with your mutual pining _ . Please, just get together already. We can’t take it anymore.”

Yuuri gaped, his brain having lost the ability to understand that situation, “I don’t… what do you… what sexual tension?”

“For the love of god, Yuuri! You two are nothing but sexual tension at this point!” he screamed, gesticulating wildly.

Yuuri quickly leaned to the left, narrowly avoided getting his glasses knocked off. “What do you mean  _ sexual tension _ ?”

”I mean exactly what I say! And it would be fine if it were just that— but noooo. You’re also sickeningly cute. There are sparkles around you two are together, actual sparkles!”

“There aren’t—“

“They’re in your  _ eyes _ ! And his eyes! Don’t you see Victor’s eyes?”

“I do,” he deadpanned, “and they’re beautiful.”

“Oh my god, Yuuri!”

Before Phichit could tackle him in a well-meaning shakedown of friendship, Vicchan yipped to get their attention. They turned from their heated conversation to the puppy, whose tail wagged a mile a minute. He yipped again,  bounded over their legs, and barrelled for the window. Vicchan stood on his hind legs, front paws planted securely on the wall, and nosed toward Yuuri’s now vibrating phone.

“Oh, that must be Victor.”

Yuuri crawled over, picking Vicchan up with one arm and reaching for his phone with the other. He nuzzled against soft, curly fur as he scrolled through the series of texts that Victor had apparently been sending him since he arrived from the grocery store. Vicchan revelled in the cuddles and wiggled happily in his hold.

“Yuuri,” Phichit said, expression resigned, “what did Victor say?”

He scrolled upward to the first of the fifteen messages. “Oh, just confirming that he’s free to tutor me in French later… and if I wanted to catch a movie with him after… and take the dogs out for a walk in the quad… maybe dinner… and ah…”

“He what, Yuuri?”

“He ah…” he stuttered, feeling the heat pool to his face, “he texted  _ I love you _ — but he backtracked right away and said he was talking to Makkachin when he texted that. You know how it is, it happens all the time. There’s no way that was for me.”

Phichit buried his face in his hands and screamed.


	4. “I need you to help me fake my death.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Speech class is horrible. You can't change my mind.

Despite the relatively late hour, the frantic knocking on his door wasn’t too bizarre considering the time of year. It was finals season, and all of Aria buzzed with manic energy, students of majors and year levels cramming as much information and activity their overworked minds and bodies could handle. Victor, in his final year of college, simultaneously the busiest and idlest person campus, opened his doors to anyone in need. It was the least he could do to honor the alumni that got him through his first three years.

Plus, his own finals were held in advance and all his papers needed were a good proofreading session, so he didn’t really have much to do for the rest of the week.

He cooed an apology to Makkachin, who until then had been lounging comfortably on his chest. Rather than whine in protest, however, she leaped off the bed with a cheerful bark and followed him. (That should have been his first clue that this was no ordinary visit; Makka only ever allowed Victor to slink away for one person.)

“Ah, Yuuri!” he chirped, having met the increasingly familiar sight of shimmering, brown eyes and varying levels of utter panic upon opening the door. Rather than his usual casual attire, Yuuri was dressed in an ill-fitting suit and the tackiest tie known to man. Cradled in his arms, with his favorite chew toy in his paws, Vicchan yipped in greeting.

Makkachin responded with a cheerful bark, giving the cue to put the puppy down to play, which Yuuri did before petting the larger dog. Both poodles bolted into the room, Vicchan scampering around Makka’s larger legs with the squeaky toy in his chomps.

Victor smiled, redirecting his attention to his other guest, “What can I help you with this fine evening?”

Yuuri’s escape from the Great Liberal Arts Prank War, nearly three months ago, marked the first of many visits from the freshman and his precious dog. They talked for the rest of the night and well into the following morning, having grown far more comfortable with each other as the hours passed. They parted ways after a breakfast they’d prepared together— Victor assuring it was no trouble, and Yuuri insisting that helping with the meal was the least he could do for his and Makka’s generosity.

The dog in question whined and nudged at the realization that his new playmate would be going away; Vicchan had similar protests. So it was only right that both poodle dads promised to allow their dogs to meet again.

That promise led them to the dog park the next day, then to a nice, pet friendly café a week later. And when Yuuri offhandedly mentioned that he was having trouble with basic French, Victor was more than happy to tutor him. Their meetings in Victor’s room became a regular thing after that.

However, he and Yuuri had just seen each other that afternoon. While it was a pleasant surprise, Victor wondered what Yuuri could have needed him for.

Yuuri squared his shoulders and took a long, deep breath.  **“I need you to help me fake my death.”**

“What?”

“Help me,” he repeated, eyes blazing, “fake my death.”

Victor raised a brow, “Is this about French?”

“No, worse,” Yuuri sighed. “Speech, I just got back from my final.”

Victor’s heart went out to him; freshman speech class was the bane of everyone’s existence. Not only was it mandatory, but it entailed far too much work and mortification than a barely adult could handle. It didn’t help that Professor Park appeared to take pleasure in eviscerating her student’s thesis statements and well-prepared arguments.

He still had nightmares of the midterm panel discussion, where they were forced in groups of five to discuss the most tedious topics with barely any preparation. His final speech had been so traumatizing that the night had been wiped from his memory entirely.

Speech broke people’s spirits.

Victor hummed knowingly, moving to wrap and arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. “Come on, you need cake in you. I still have some of my sad desserts left from last week. You deserve them.”

He guided Yuuri past their rambunctious dogs to sit on the couch. Makkachin and Vicchan, the sweet darlings they were, paused their little game to snuggle up against the stressed student. Victor quickly prepared their evening snack, now thankful that he still had some tea bags left over from last week— it wasn’t anything like the tea Yuuri had back home, he once mentioned, but it was the best the supermarket had.

“Oh god,” Yuuri moaned, now lying on the couch, buried head to foot in cuddly poodles. “I think I left Phichit in the speech lab.”

Victor chuckled and set the tray of cake and tea down on his low coffee table. “Don’t worry, I’ll go get him. If we’re talking about how you’re faking your death, we might as well let him in on the fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the end of the prewritten ficlets I've already posted on tumblr. From now on, I'll be updating this collection along with posting excerpts (? maybe) of the ficlets over there. I accept prompts for this AU, so feel free to leave me an ask if you want anything~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read my little self-indulgent ficlets. I should be posting more in semi-regular intervals over the next few weeks. Hopefully, I can churn these out more often after I pass my board exam. I would love prompts for this AU, so feel free to send them my way.
> 
> Kudos and comments are love! Hit me up on [Tumblr](https://croaissant.tumblr.com) if you feel like it.


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